I did it again, but this time it was different. I can't remember what I dreamt of, but all day I felt as though I was in a waking fog.
It was as though nothing was real, and everyone was attacking me. I begged them to stop. For the pain to stop.
I dragged my nails across my forearm as tears streamed down my face, but it wouldn't stop.
It didn't stop and suddenly I was grasping the nearest sharp object and sliding it across my smooth alabaster skin.
I watched the blood bubble in fascination and it was as though everything was suddenly clearer.
The voice in my head screaming at me to stop was, but a distant memory.
As I leaned against the tiles. Crying. Why am I still crying?
"Shikaoi!" my brother shouted again, and I smiled, and my world tilted on its axis.
All I remember is black.
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Shikaoi awoke to white walls. He was confused. He saw Shikamaru's tear streaked face and for once his twin was wide awake.
What happened? The eight-year-old boy wondered wearily.
Never has he seen his brother look like this. So stricken. So lost. So…hurt?
"Never do that again," Shikamaru demanded.
"What happened?" Shikaoi asked his brother bewildered.
"You don't remember?" his brother and father demanded in unison.
"Dad?" Shikaoi asked just noticing his father's presence in the room.
Shikaku narrowed his eyes and his son, who flinched wearily eyeing the occupants in what he has now realized is a hospital room.
"What is the last thing you remember?" Shikaku interrogated.
Shikaoi thought about it and to his growing horror found himself drawing a blank.
His eyes widening, Shikaku turned to Shikamaru.
"Stay with your brother. I am going to get your uncle Inoichi," Shikaku told his oldest shushining away without another word.
Shikamaru turned back to his brother, "you really don't remember?" He asked his brother who could only shake his head.